


Oblivion's Price

by Letterblade



Category: Sekirei
Genre: BDSM, Catharsis, Community: kink_las, Drunk Sex, F/F, Flogging, I'm going to die let's fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-02-17 23:26:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2326991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Letterblade/pseuds/Letterblade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uzume knows she doesn't have much time before the noose closes. And it's getting harder and harder to fake happiness. But at least Kazehana understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oblivion's Price

**Author's Note:**

> Written years ago for kink_las; "striking with implements" was the challenge of the week. (Putting it up here unedited, since going over old work is weird.)

"Hey, Uzume..."

Kazehana's well aware of the impression she makes. One pink-cheeked, loose-limbed bundle of gorgeously curvaceous woman, wrapped around Uzume's doorjamb, full breasts escaping her strappy dress, smiling lushly and stinking of booze.

"Hey, sis." Uzume smiles, bright and fragile.

"Got any sake? I'm out."

"Nope." Uzume stands and pulls on a shirt. "But I know which store's still open, and I'm paying."

Kazehana blows her a kiss. "You have learned well, grasshopper."

"From the best, drunken-master."

They bolt for the store.

"All the sake this'll buy." Uzume throws down a wad of bills with a lopsided grin. Kazehana waves to favorite brands, winks, and wonders if that's the last of Uzume's money. They gather up bottles and leave, back home in a whirl of Kazehana's wind, flower petals spinning in their wake.

Sometimes being a super-powered space alien has its advantages. Sure, it leaves you bound to a human partner and forced into a deadly battle royale, but it does speed up the shopping.

Kazehana rummages through Uzume's closet and plays dress-up as Uzume gets steadily, methodically, piss-drunk, sprawled on her futon, hiccuping slightly, wearing nothing but panties with a hole in them. Not that Kazehana doesn't drink too. But it's rare that anybody puts away more than her.

It's not like she doesn't know something's terribly, terribly wrong.

Laced into some drunken hybrid of purple maid outfit and dominatrix, Kazehana adjusts the flower in her hair and poses, turns, winks, wiggles. Uzume makes appreciative noises and drinks more sake.

Kazehana pours herself a cup and snuggles up, wrapping leather-booted legs around her. "So generous with the sake." Doesn't particularly care what part of Uzume she kisses; turns out to be her elbow. "What's the occasion?"

Uzume giggles, brittle and forced. "What other reason to get _thiiiis_ drunk? Gotta forget something."

Kazehana smiles indulgently. She'd drunk herself into a stupor for so long, trying to forget the man who broke her heart; she can't complain about Uzume picking up her bad habits. Uzume who's in some terrible situation even Kazehana doesn't fully understand, torn between her friends and her dying human partner whom she loves so dearly. Forced to fight, even against her friends, for her partner's sake.

"Ah, the rite of oblivion." Kazehana stares contemplatively into her sake bowl, and then realizes that it's empty. Uzume pours more. "Name it and let it go." She takes Uzume's hand and dips her fingertips in the sake, ready to make libation. "Let it go."

Uzume goes very still for a moment.

"Happiness," she whispers, and shakes her hand, and droplets fly.

Kazehana had expected something like that.

"Sis," Uzume whispers, voice cracking. " _Make_ me forget. Something. Please." Her hand clenches in her sheets and they move, fabric morphing under her will, until she's holding a strange, twisted whip, tails of knotted fabric made impossibly dense. Her desires manifested.

"Oh, my," Kazehana says, mild and mischievous.

"Hey, you're wearing the costume, right?" Uzume's false cheer returns.

Kazehana finishes her cup and sets it carefully aside, and when Uzume's is empty again, she takes it from her, sets it beside the other, and throws her violently down on the futon with a blast of wind, shredding her panties. Uzume's breath leaves her in a ragged gasp, and Kazehana trails fingertips over her wiry curves, feeling muscles tremble under her skin, and picks up the whip.

They had never played rough like this before. Kazehana hasn't played rough like this in years, but her body remembers, and tingles with excitement. The old days, dark and bloody days; ravishing Two until she couldn't walk, pushing Five to his limits as he muttered sardonic nothings. She tests the whip. It will hurt. Uzume will heal. It's good enough.

Uzume laughs softly, interrupted by one hiccuping grunt of pain as the first blow falls, then goes right back to laughing. It scores pink lines in her skin. Kazehana moves for a better angle, kneeling up, legs framing Uzume's head. Resists the temptation to roll her over and sit down. Later. This isn't about her.

She beats her until she's red from neck to thighs. Uzume's laughter turns into faint gasps, then rolling growls, hands scrabbling for purchase on the futon. She's a fighter, she knows how to deal with pain, Kazehana isn't worried about that. Isn't surprised when she doesn't scream. Growls give way to low, harsh moans, ass wiggling and flinching, sometimes into a blow, sometimes away from it. Not inherently a masochist, Kazehana thinks, just in a masochistic mood.

Moans give way to dry sobs.

Kazehana tosses the whip aside.

"Sis--"

Kazehana drags fingernails across the welts. "Hush, you." Voice harsher than she expected. Uzume falls silent with an indignant squirm as Kazehana gropes for a bottle. Mostly empty. She finishes it with a long glug, spreads Uzume's legs with her knee, and slips the narrow neck of it inside her.

Slick. Masochistic mood. Uzume moans appreciatively. Awkward angle, probably hurts, neither of them cares.

"You want to forget something like that," Kazehana whispers, "you'll have to forget everything."

She pulls it out, checks that it's wet enough--glass-smooth, it doesn't need much--and then shoves it up her ass.

Uzume yowls and squirms, and Kazehana steadies the bottle in one hand, rocking it slightly, and slides the other further down to Uzume's clit. Not particularly gently. Uzume grinds down on her in answer.

Kazehana concentrates for a moment, summons a little vortex of wind to keep the bottle from popping out, and then reaches for the whip again.

She counts a victory when Uzume can't form words anymore. Just throaty sobs of pleasure and pain, too many orgasms wrung out of her half-conscious body, blood seeping from some of her welts.

"There," Kazehana murmurs, stroking Uzume's thick dark hair. "There. That what you wanted?"

"Ohhhh. Sis. _Yes._ "

"Good."

Too drunk to be really horny, Kazehana grinds lazily into her own hand and holds Uzume until they pass out.


End file.
